Chapter 120: The Hound of the Baskervilles (8)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 120: The Hound of the Baskervilles (8)
Sssssss...
“…………”
Charlotte Holmes stood in utter silence, watching the storm ravage the Baskerville estate from the window. After a long moment, she turned her gaze aside.
“Has there been any word from the station?”
“The storm hit so suddenly... it’s going to take some time for the investigative team to arrive.”
“Do they have an estimate?”
“Tomorrow evening at the earliest, I’m afraid. They reported that the bridge leading into the area has flooded, making it temporarily impassable.”
Gia Lestrade hung her damp police cap on the coat rack and delivered her report with professional brevity.
“A classic predicament,” Charlotte muttered to herself.
“...But there’s something more pressing than the weather right now.” Lestrade tilted her head, then held out an object she had been clutching.
“And this is?”
“I just checked the basement where Isaac Adler was being held. The room was empty, save for this note.”
In the center of the paper was a doodle of Adler, baring his fangs and posing like an angry kitten.
“Sigh.”
Charlotte stared down at the childish drawing for a moment before shaking her head with a deep groan. “That is so like him.”
“Should we go after him?”
“Distracting me is exactly what Adler wants. We’ll save the thrashing for later; for now, let’s focus on the case at hand.”
“I mean, I agree, but... is there really a need to keep investigating?” Lestrade asked, looking perplexed.
“What do you mean?”
“Isn’t the case already closed?”
Charlotte fixed the clueless Inspector with an intense stare. “Explain yourself.”
“Weren’t you the one who ordered the arrest of Isaac Adler on suspicion of murder...?”
“That was a lie to borrow the authority of the police.”
“Pardon?”
“Isaac Adler is not the perpetrator of this case.”
Charlotte stepped forward, leaving a bewildered Lestrade in her wake. She began biting her nail, murmuring in a low voice, “I don’t know what compelled him to act like that, but he has been continuously meddling and obstructing the investigation...”
“Then... who exactly is the culprit?”
“...Who do you think?” Charlotte threw the question back, her tone inquisitive.
“Hmm... if it’s not Adler, then it has to be that thing.” Lestrade’s eyes flashed with sudden conviction. “The demonic hound. That monstrous creature we saw at dawn.”
“I knew you’d say that, Inspector.”
“Are you saying it’s not? I’ll admit, I didn’t believe the legends at first either. But you saw it with your own eyes that night, didn’t you?”
Charlotte fell silent, turning her gaze back to Lestrade.
“The Baskerville demonic hound is real, Miss Holmes.”
“........”
“I felt it. My curse reacted to that monster. It wasn’t just some oversized hunting dog or a wolf. I’m certain of it.”
“...It seems you’ve misunderstood me.” Charlotte sighed deeply, beginning her explanation to the adamant Inspector. “I never said the demonic hound doesn’t exist, nor did I claim it wasn’t a supernatural entity.”
“Then...?”
“I merely stated that it isn’t the killer in this case.”
The Inspector tilted her head, looking even more confused.
“While I despise it when supernatural elements clutter a case, I am not so foolish as to deny the evidence of my own eyes,” Charlotte continued.
“.........”
“In fact, it is because I saw it myself that I am certain the hound is innocent of this crime.”
Seeing that Lestrade was still lost, Charlotte narrowed her eyes and lowered her voice. “You saw the crime scene, and you saw the glowing eyes of that dog, Inspector. Have you really not pieced it together yet?”
“Ah...! Now that you mention it...!” Realization finally struck Lestrade like a physical blow. “That demonic dog... its face was clean.”
“Exactly. Isn’t that strange? At a crime scene literally drenched in blood, a beast that kills with nothing but teeth and claws didn’t have a single drop on its fur.”
“But... but it was raining, wasn't it?”
“The drizzle we had then was nothing compared to this downpour. It wasn't even enough to justify an umbrella, let alone wash deep-seated blood out of an animal’s coat.”
“You... you have a point there...” Lestrade nodded, the logic finally sinking in. Then, her expression hardened. “But if it wasn’t the monster, then who on earth killed Mrs. Stapleton?”
Charlotte remained silent for a moment.
“And think about it,” Lestrade pressed, her frustration mounting. “There were clear bite marks and deep scratches on the lady’s neck and arms—wounds only claws could make. There was even grey fur scattered across the floor!”
“Indeed. Even Watson, who tried to deny the supernatural, had to face reality when she found those anomalies during the autopsy. It sent her hiding under her covers.”
“According to her findings, those wounds couldn't have been faked by a human. If it wasn't the hound we saw, what else could have left those marks?”
Charlotte mulled over the point, then suddenly quickened her pace.
“...Miss Holmes?”
“I was just about to show you the answer.”
Driven by the confidence in Charlotte’s voice, Lestrade followed, though doubt still lingered on her face.
“Honestly, if I hadn't seen your brilliance with my own eyes so many times, I wouldn't know whether to trust you or call for a doctor, Miss Holmes.”
“It sounds to me like you still don't trust me.”
“Well, I’ve been embarrassed enough times by doubting you. I’ve learned my lesson. I’ll trust you.”
Charlotte gave an uncharacteristically shy smile, then cleared her throat and came to a halt.
“This is...”
“The estate’s dining room. The servants should be inside preparing breakfast.”
Charlotte pushed open the heavy doors.
“”……….””
Inside, the young servants were busily setting the table. At the sight of Charlotte and Lestrade, their faces turned deathly pale.
“So, what are we doing here...?”
Swoosh—
As Lestrade frowned at the unsettling atmosphere, Charlotte reached into her pocket and whipped something out.
“Gasp...!”
With an indifferent expression, Charlotte tossed the object into the center of the room. The servants’ eyes tracked it as it arched through the air.
Boom!
A sharp explosion rocked the dining room.
“Is it dangerous?!” Lestrade barked, dropping into a defensive stance, startled by the sudden blast.
Ssssss...
Though the explosion had been powerful, there was no fire or shrapnel. Instead, a cloud of shimmering silver dust began to disperse in every direction.
“What is this...?”
“An Area-of-Effect Anti-Adler Bomb.”
Charlotte’s calm explanation reached Lestrade’s ears as the Inspector stared on, dazed.
“It’s a device that disperses a fog of finely powdered, refined silver. I invented it myself, inspired by the Three Garridebs case.”
“Why silver, of all things?”
“He’s a vampire. The plan was to detonate it if Adler tried anything foolish. Honestly, I should have used it sooner; that was my mistake.”
Lestrade looked forward, her eyes widening in shock. “Good heavens...”
“But it was worth saving for this moment. Refined silver doesn’t just neutralize vampires, after all.”
Every single one of the pale-faced servants who had been staring at them moments ago now lay unconscious on the floor.
“So all the servants in this house were...”
“Exceedingly pale, always moving in groups, drawing the curtains at night rather than during the day, and refusing to step outside even when their master was murdered in the dead of night... there is only one identity that fits such traits.”
Already, fluffy silver tails had sprouted from the unconscious servants, coiling around their defenseless bodies.
“Werewolves...”
“Likely the very last pack of living werewolves in London—perhaps in all of Britain. After dealing with nothing but fakes in our recent cases, we are finally face-to-face with the real deal.”
“So, these people are the killers...?”
“...More accurately, they are accomplices. The actual perpetrator is someone else.”
The Inspector, still reeling from the scene, sharpened her gaze. “What do you mean?”
“It means the hound of the Baskerville family—the one that killed Sir Charles Baskerville and Lady Julia Stapleton—is a separate entity entirely.”
“...Then who is this hound?”
“It’s a simple process of elimination, really,” Charlotte explained in a low voice. “Excluding Isaac Adler, who was busy playing games in a locked room, you, Watson, and these wolves—who have rock-solid alibis—there are only two people left.”
“The butler and the heir. Those two, right?”
“Well, since the Baskerville hound can’t be the heiress, Miss Helen Baskerville, it narrows the field down to one person.”
Lestrade’s expression turned incredibly tense. “...The head butler, Gabrielle Mortimer. She’s the real culprit?”
“You’re getting quicker at this, Inspector. Perhaps there’s hope for you yet.” Charlotte patted her shoulder in mock commendation, then turned on her heel.
“Actually, I had suspicions about her from the start.”
“Is that so?”
“She’s an old acquaintance of mine. I have a fair idea of her motive for all of this.” Charlotte began to run.
“Shall we hurry?”
“Huh?”
“Now that we’ve made the first move, we need to strike her down before the pack wakes up.”
Charlotte’s face was a mask of excitement, tension, and thrill.
“Before Helen Baskerville and the missing Isaac Adler are put in any more danger.”
*
Meanwhile...
“...Miss Mortimer.”
“I would prefer it if you didn't use my name, sir.”
Adler and the estate’s butler, Mortimer, were trekking through the wilderness, braving the howling storm.
“In that case, could you please remove the claw you have pressed against my throat?”
“...I’m afraid that is quite impossible.”
“If you keep this up, I won't be able to help you with your revenge against the Baskerville family...”
“I don’t know how you know about that, but it doesn't matter.” Mortimer, her hand partially transformed into a wolf’s claw, whispered in a chilling tone. “Because you were one of my targets from the very beginning.”
“...Excuse me?”
“Why do you think that is? Take a guess.”
Adler stared blankly at the butler’s face for a long moment before realization dawned on him. “Is that... a human skin mask?”
“A product imported from the Qing Dynasty. Quite effective, wouldn't you say? It seems the detective wasn't fooled, but in the end, I succeeded in deceiving you.”
“Uh, well...”
As Adler showed a rare flash of flustered emotion, Mortimer reached up and tore the mask from her face.
Squeak...
Upon seeing the face beneath, Adler froze.
“It’s been a long time, Isaac Adler.”
“Ah... haha...”
The maid he had dismissed after his house burned down during the Scandal of the Bohemian Queen incident was staring at him with eyes full of murderous fire.
“...You used to despise interacting with someone as 'lowly' as me more than anything in the world, didn't you?”
For some inexplicable reason, her body bore the scars of severe abuse, even though the previous 'him' had never laid a hand on his women.
“Are you ready?” she asked, a bloody smile plastered across her pale face.
“...No,” Adler replied, shaking his head quickly.
“An excellent response.”
Mortimer’s cold smile widened as she seized his clothes.
“.....Ahh!”
A moment later, Adler’s muffled scream echoed across the desolate moor.